


Reverie

by argentconflagration



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale being nervous and blushy, Other, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Soft Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), mentions of food, the inclusion of the prompt is blink-and-you'll-miss-it im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:14:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26777947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/argentconflagration/pseuds/argentconflagration
Summary: Tonight they'd meet openly, purely out of their fondness for each other. Aziraphale wouldn't need to think about averting his eyes enough, or reining in any affection that started to become too blatant, or containing all the feelings it would be cruel to let Crowley reciprocate. He could order everything he liked, and feed Crowley a bit of each, despite his protests. He'd get to watch Crowley's face soften into a small smile of contentment as his 'cool' façade was slowly forgotten, and then Aziraphale would make him laugh— loudly, honestly.Aziraphale has invited Crowley to dinner for the first time since the averted apocalypse, and he's vibrating with anticipation.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 76
Collections: SOSH - Guess the Author #06 "I Had No Idea That Would Happen!"





	Reverie

Aziraphale puttered around the shop in nervous excitement, humming a gay and jaunty tune, occasionally rocking up to the balls of his feet. He had a _date_ tonight.

Not officially, of course. He'd stuttered and blushed his way through asking Crowley if he'd like to dine together, but Crowley might not have thought it any different than the thousands of dinners they'd taken together in the past. It _was_ different, though, how could it not be? They used to meet accidentally, or with plausible deniability, or secretively in a pinch.

But tonight they'd meet openly, purely out of their fondness for each other. Aziraphale wouldn't need to think about averting his eyes enough, or reining in any affection that started to become too blatant, or containing all the feelings it would be cruel to let Crowley reciprocate. He could order everything he liked, and feed Crowley a bit of each, despite his protests. He'd get to watch Crowley's face soften into a small smile of contentment as his 'cool' façade was slowly forgotten, and then Aziraphale would make him laugh— loudly, honestly.

Maybe Crowley would let Aziraphale bring him back to the bookshop, and sprawl out on his couch, in that casually alluring way that Aziraphale could never be certain was unintentional. And perhaps, if Aziraphale was very very lucky, he'd let Aziraphale draw close on the couch and lean in, so that Aziraphale could take Crowley's face in his hands, press his lips against Crowley's, and show Crowley the Earthly pleasure of a warm body nestled against one's own ...

Aziraphale pressed his hands to his heated face and shook himself out of his silly little reverie before it went any farther. And yet, there was something wonderful in simply letting himself daydream about things that weren't _quite_ so completely out of the question now. So many years, and he'd never had any idea this could happen.

He absently ran a feather-duster over a bookshelf, one he'd probably later miracle filthy again. 

"Angel?"

And— Aziraphale was ridiculous, he knew he was ridiculous— even though he'd been fully expecting Crowley, even though he was already thinking of Crowley— his heart leapt, and his face shone. "Coming, my dear," he called, nearly singsong.

The sight of Crowley slouching in the doorway— in a dashing new suit, peering over the rims of his glasses— emboldened Aziraphale far too much. Before he could think better of it, he strode across the room and pressed his lips to Crowley's cheek.

For a moment Crowley seemed shocked— but then he kissed right back, on the apple of Aziraphale's too-warm cheek, gentle and tender in all the ways he hid from Hell, and— if Aziraphale wasn't imagining things— lingering just slightly longer than he needed to.

Aziraphale glanced away as if he could hide his blush, or his giddy smile. "To dinner, then?"

Crowley, too, looked to be fighting a radiant smile, and losing. "Lead the way."

It was going to be a wonderful night.


End file.
